The Simpkins Plot | Page 9

to tell the truth as you think.
Lots of men try to and fail. In fact, I'm not sure that any man could tell
the truth unless he's had some training in metaphysics and theology.
When I was in college I took honours in logic--"
"You've often mentioned that to me before," said the Major. "It's one of
the things about you that I have most firmly fixed in my mind."
"And I won a prize for proving the accuracy of the Thirty-nine Articles.
Consequently, I may say, without boasting, that I'm more or less of an
expert in the matter of truth. My mind is trained. Yours, of course, isn't.
That's why I'm trying to help you to tell the truth. But I won't--in fact, I
can't--go on helping you if you wander off on to side issues about
ink-bottles and carpets."
He waved his hand oratorically as he spoke, and tipped the ink-bottle
off the arm of the chair.
"There," said the Major, "I knew you'd do that."
"Never mind," said Meldon. "I have a pencil in my pocket. I'll work
with it."
The Major seized the blotting-paper from his writing-table and went
down on his knees on the carpet.
"When you've finished making that mess worse than it is," said Meldon,
"and covering your own fingers all over with ink in such a way that it
will take days of careful rubbing with pumice-stone to get them clean,
perhaps you'll go on telling me why you call this fellow Simpkins a
meddlesome ass. I was up early this morning, owing to the baby's being

restless during the night. Did I mention to you that she's got
whooping-cough? Well, she has, and it takes her in the form of a rapid
succession of fits, beginning at 10 p.m. and lasting till eight the next
morning. That was what happened last night, so, as you'll readily
understand, I want to get to bed in good time to-night. It may, it
probably will, take hours to drag your grievance out of you, and I don't
see any use in wasting time at the start."
"I paid twenty guineas for that carpet," said the Major. "It's a Persian
one."
"Has that anything to do with Simpkins? Did he force you to buy the
carpet, or did he try to prevent you?"
"No, he didn't. I wouldn't let the beast inside this house."
"Very well then. Don't go on about the carpet. Tell me plainly and
straightforwardly why you call Simpkins a meddlesome ass."
"Because he pokes his nose into everybody's business," said the Major,
"and won't let people alone."
Meldon took a note on a sheet of paper.
"Good," he said. "Simpkins--meddlesome ass--pokes his nose into
everybody's business. Now, who is everybody?"
"Who is what, J. J.?"
"Who is everybody? That's plain enough, isn't it? For instance, are you
everybody?"
"No, I'm not. How could I be?"
"Then I take it that Simpkins has not poked his nose into your business.
Is Doyle everybody?"
"He has poked his nose into my business."

"Be careful now, Major. You're beginning to contradict yourself. What
business of yours has he poked his nose into? Was it the carpet?"
"No. I told you he had nothing to do with the carpet. He made a beastly
fuss about my fishing in the river above the bridge. He threatened to
prosecute me."
"He may have been perfectly justified in that," said Meldon. "What
right have you to fish in the upper part of the river?"
"I always fished there. I've fished there for thirty years and more."
"These questions of fishing rights," said Meldon, "are often extremely
complicated. There may very well be something to be said on both
sides. I don't think I can proceed to deal with Simpkins in the way you
suggest, unless he has done something worse than interfere with your
fishing. What else have you got against him?"
"He tried to stir up the dispensary doctor to prosecute Doyle on account
of the insanitary condition of some of his houses."
"I expect he was perfectly right there," said Meldon. "From what I
recollect of those houses that Doyle lets I should say that he richly
deserves prosecution."
"Nobody was ever ill in the houses," said the Major. "There hasn't been
a case of typhoid in the town as long as I can remember."
"That's not the point," said Meldon. "You're looking at the matter in the
wrong way altogether. There never is typhoid anywhere until you begin
to be sanitary. The absence of typhoid simply goes to show that
sanitation has been entirely neglected. That's probably one of Simpkins'
strongest points."
"If that's so, we'd be better without sanitation."
"Certainly not," said Meldon. "You might just as well say that we'd be
better without